


Jackals

by Welfycat



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Community: angst_bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:24:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welfycat/pseuds/Welfycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A case in Vegas reveals secrets kept and leaves Spencer and Derek at an impasse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jackals

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Angst Bingo; Prompt: Rape  
> Content Notes: Discussion of past child sexual abuse and rape. Discussion of issues of consent. Murder and abduction of children (in a case). I strongly caution discretion in reading if you have triggers concerning the subject matter.  
> Author Notes: References to/general spoilers for: Profiler Profiled, Revelations, and Elephant's Memory. Fic is set in early season four.

Part One

Spencer watched from across the Vegas police station as Emily and Rossi walked their suspect to the interrogation room. The suspect wasn't cuffed and was moving under his own power, even though Rossi was flexing his left hand like he wanted to grab him and move them faster. The suspect glanced around the police station, his shoulders hunched and his eyes wide with fear. Spencer's stomach dropped as he saw the blue eyes turn briefly in his direction even though there was no recognition in them.

It was what he'd feared from the minute he'd heard the phone call saying they were bringing Ruben Gosney in for questioning. Ruben was a common enough name - Gosney less so, but still not rare - and Spencer had held out some hope that it wasn't the same man. Even though Ruben had grown a few more inches since Spencer had last seen him and was broader in the shoulders, his light hair fell in the same unkept waves and his facial features were familiar enough. Spencer was almost startled to realize that he was taller than Ruben by about two inches. A lot of things had changed in fifteen years.

"You really think it's that simple?" Derek asked. He walked over so that he was standing next to Spencer and Hotch at the evidence boards. "We only got this case seven hours ago and we've only been in Vegas for two of those."

Spencer turned away and looked back at the map he'd been using to create a geographic profile using the two known abduction sites and the single dump site.

"He was visiting the dump site and he knew exactly where to go. The dump site wasn't in plain view, even if it was off the beaten path," Hotch said. "I'd like Garcia to get back to us with everything she's got before we question him. The more we know, the better the chances he'll tell us where he's keeping Zach Martin."

Derek sighed and Spencer resisted the urge to walk over and stand next to him. He knew that Derek struggled during child abduction cases, particularly those of prepubescent adolescents who were sexually assaulted. Instead, Spencer stayed focused on the map, searching streets for routes that he knew that suddenly held new relevance. Spencer was starting to hate cases that took him back to his hometown.

"It doesn't make sense though. If he took Zach Martin, why is he visiting the dump site? The placing of Marcus Webb's body has all the indicators of remorse. He washed and groomed him, wrapped him in a blanket, placed him in a sheltered area and arranged the body to appear at rest. Why would the unsub do all of that if he was going to abduct another child the next morning?" Derek pressed both of his palms against the table and glared at the small stack of reports in front of them.

"Why return to the dead child if he already has a replacement?" Hotch asked.

Spencer thought he knew the answer, but declined to speak as his fingers tracing along the lines he'd drawn previously and finding the address he'd been looking for near the center of the unsub's predicted comfort zone. He needed to know more before he said anything. It was entirely possible the rest of the team would reach the same conclusion without any help from him.

Hotch turned to the two pictures of the victims, one dead and one missing, they had posted on the whiteboard. "It's very clear that the second child is a replacement; the physical features are similar beyond just age and body type. The unsub is a preferential offender and it seems exact criteria regarding appearance needs to be met. We should have Garcia search for reports of boys between the ages of nine and thirteen being approached by men in the northern suburban Vegas area, along with reports of attempted abductions or molestations. This isn't the first time this unsub has offended."

Derek had his phone out by the time Emily and Rossi joined them around the table.

"JJ's supervising the set up of the recording equipment and making sure no one else talks to him," Emily said. She sat down next to Spencer, taking a quick peek at the map before her attention was drawn away by Garcia's voice.

"We've got good news and bad news," Garcia announced as Derek set his phone on the table so everyone could listen.

"What's that, baby girl?" Derek asked.

Spencer sometimes envied Garcia's ability to make Derek smile, even during the worst of cases, but he was grateful for it during the times when he couldn't. Besides, the way Derek smiled at him and the way he smiled at Garcia were two entirely different things, even though it had taken Spencer nearly three years to figure that out.

"The good news is that Ruben Gosney's life is an open book. There's something to be said for using your debit and credit card instead of cash. All hail the mighty grid." Garcia paused, the sound of rapid typing briefly filling the void. "The bad news is that Ruben Gosney - Las Vegas native and 32 years of age - is clean, from what I can see. No arrests, no contact with law enforcement whatsoever, no suspicious purchases or cash flow. He lives in an apartment by himself and works the night shift at a local call center doing incoming calls for live technical support. He shops for groceries on Wednesdays and uses his cell phone primarily to tweet about his achievements in video games. I've got plenty of information here, but nothing useful."

"Tweet?" Rossi asked with a questioning glance towards Emily and Derek.

"It's like text messaging the entire world at once, for anyone who wants to read what you've had for lunch or what shoes you're wearing," Garcia supplied helpfully.

Rossi still looked confused, not that Spencer could blame him, but Hotch pushed forward. "Keep looking for reported incidents of attempted abductions or of male children in the victim's age range being watched. You've checked actual abductions and sexual assaults in the area?"

"Yep and nada. I mean, there are plenty to go through, but just as the locals told you there's nothing in the past three years that matches the victimology." Garcia said.

Hotch frowned and looked over the team. "Go back further and keep digging on Gosney. Let us know-"

"As soon as I've got even the whisper of a hint of a clue. Always. Garcia out."

Spencer watched as Hotch repressed an eye roll in the direction of Derek's phone even as Derek smiled sadly and returned it to his belt.

"I'll go talk to Gosney. He wasn't unwilling to speak to me when we were driving back to the station. Maybe he'll let something slip," Rossi said. He started gathering up reports, placing pictures of Marcus Webb and Zach Martin on top of the stack before tucking them all in an FBI file folder.

"Morgan, Prentiss, go to the site were Zach Martin was abducted and then to his school. He was walking by himself but it's still possible someone saw something. Reid, how is that geographic profile coming?" Hotch asked, the rest of the team dispersing rapidly. They were eight hours into the abduction time frame and while the unsub had kept Marcus Webb alive for almost three days after his abduction there was no way to tell how long Zach Martin had or what was happening to him as the hours slipped by.

Spencer looked up from the map as soon as it was just him and Hotch left at the table. "Without more data points it's difficult to be more exact, but there is a fairly defined comfort zone in this suburban area. It's large, too big to effectively canvas at this point."

Hotch nodded as he looked over the map. "Let's try to narrow it down then. Start looking at elementary schools in the area and routes that the children walk home from. School bus stops, parks, the usual."

"Right," Spencer said. "I'd like to listen as Rossi questions the suspect. Maybe he'll talk about locations."

"If you think that will help." Hotch turned back to the case files, his expression grim yet determined.

Spencer gathered his pencils and the map and walked over to the room where JJ was standing with one of the local detectives behind the one way mirror that looked into the primary interrogation room.

JJ smiled when he set down his pencils. "You didn't miss much. So far all Rossi's gotten is his name and an acknowledgement that he was walking in the campgrounds this afternoon."

Spencer nodded as he stared into the room and forced himself to take a slow breath. Ruben Gosney was sitting in an interrogation room with Dave Rossi. It was like an entirely different reality was colliding with his present one and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He supposed it could have been worse, Derek could have been sitting in that room instead of Rossi. Spencer sat on the edge of the table and watched as Rossi slowly took Ruben through each step of his day.

*****

Nearly an hour later Rossi came out of the interrogation, rubbing just above his right eyebrow in the way that meant he was getting a tension headache. "This is a waste of time. All I'm getting is the same old protests that he'd never kill or hurt a child, over and over." Rossi dropped down in one of the plastic chairs and closed his eyes for a moment.

Spencer stood up and walked a step closer to the window, watching as Ruben Gosney covered his face with his hands. Ruben's entire body shook briefly before he contained himself and returned to looking across the room with an impassive expression.

"He's avoiding the questions about the boys specifically though. He won't let you stay on either one of them long enough to let you trip him up with the details," JJ said as she looked up from the file she'd been rereading. "He knows something."

"Maybe." Rossi shook his head. "But we're not going to find it like this and we've spent too much time here already."

"Let Morgan at him? He and Emily should be returning soon," JJ suggested.

"I tried threatening and he didn't so much as waver. If anything I was closer with the calm, paternal approach." Rossi stood up and walked to the door. "I need coffee."

JJ picked up her empty cup and set aside the file. "Won't say no to that. Need a refill, Spence?"

Spencer hadn't had a cup of coffee since he'd arrived at Quantico that morning, but found that he wasn't missing it at the moment. "No, thank you."

"You sure?" JJ asked. "I'm sure they've got sugar lurking around here somewhere."

Spencer shook his head and made a show of looking at the map he hadn't done more than glance at in the past hour. The door clicked as it latched shut behind Rossi and JJ, and Spencer turned back to watching Ruben through the mirror.

Ruben had gone mostly still with his hands resting in front of him on the table. Everything about his posture suggested he was relaxed and calm, but the worry creasing around his eyes and mouth gave him away. Spencer blinked as he realized that it wasn't fear of being arrested that he was seeing, but worry over something else. Ruben's insistence that he would never kill a child, which had been sincere, combined with this unnamed worry was enough that the final pieces fell together for Spencer.

Abandoning the map, Spencer left the room and walked to the door that would let him in the same side as Ruben. He briefly considered turning off the recording so no one would know what he said to Ruben, but there were too many legal loopholes for it to be worth it. He would just have to be careful what he said.

He opened the door and stepped inside the interrogation room, closing the door quietly behind him. Ruben didn't look up to see who had entered.

"Ruben," Spencer said. He didn't move from where he was standing near the door.

Ruben looked over at the sound of his name and stared at Spencer, his eyes widening in shock. "Spencer?"

Spencer nodded. Some part of him was glad that Ruben had recognized him; it would make their conversation much simpler.

"Spencer, how did you even get here?" Ruben asked. He had stood, but hadn't tried to move away from the table.

"I work for the FBI. Agent Rossi is my coworker." When Ruben grinned, Spencer couldn't help but smile a little back.

"That's great. I always said you'd get there." Ruben's expression dimmed slightly as if he was remembering why they were there. "Haven't seen you for a long time. Didn't really think we would again. Jimmy misses you, you know?"

Spencer nodded, reminding himself that this wasn't a reunion between friends. He was there for a reason. "How is Jimmy these days? Do you still hang out with him?"

Ruben didn't quite manage to contain his wince at Spencer's question. "We see each other around. He's doing okay. Not like we thought things would be, not like you. He'd be proud of you."

Spencer swallowed hard and nodded again. "Ruben-"

"Spencer, I would never do that. I would never kill a kid." Ruben said before Spencer could finish speaking.

"I know," Spencer said quickly.

"I would never hurt them," Ruben continued as if Spencer hadn't spoken. Ruben sat back down in the chair and leaned forward on the table. "Jimmy loved you, you know? I did too."

Spencer closed his eyes and took a temporary reprieve from the interrogation room. "I know," he agreed. His voice broke and he coughed to cover it.

"I'm sorry, I've got to go." Spencer reached for the door handle and stumbled out into the hallway. The air felt cooler outside the room and Spencer took a grateful breath as he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. He turned away slightly as Hotch stepped out of the viewing room and the rest of the team gathered in the hallway.

"Garcia, I need you to check if Jimmy Haskins or his father still owns a house in Vegas," Spencer said, cutting off Garcia's protest that she didn't have anything new yet.

"Jimmy Haskins does not own property within city limits, but there is a house that is in the name of Henry Haskins, who is deceased as of six years ago," Garcia replied, typing noisily in the background. "Sending the address to your cellphones in just a moment."

"I already know where it is, thanks Garcia," Spencer hung up without giving a Garcia a chance to respond. He turned back and found the entire team watching him with expressions ranging from confusion to concern.

"Spencer?" Derek asked, a dozen questions contained within.

Spencer met Derek's eyes briefly, with as much apology as he could offer in that moment, and then turned to Hotch instead. "We'll find Zach Martin in Jimmy Haskins' home at 1843 Hamilton Drive. It's about a twenty minute drive from here. We should leave now."

"What's your reasoning?" Hotch asked, his voice even.

"There's a second unsub. That's why Ruben was able to go visit Marcus Webb's body. He feels remorse, even though he didn't kill Marcus. The second unsub is the one we need to be concerned about killing Zach, especially if he's aware that Ruben has been questioned by the police." Spencer licked his lips, uncomfortably aware that the entire team was analyzing him as he spoke.

"Jimmy Haskins? Where does that name come from?" Rossi asked. It should have sounded like an accusation but Rossi's tone was quiet and gentle.

Spencer broke his gaze away from where he'd been trying to keep it steady and looked down at the ground. "I know them. We need to go now."

There was a few seconds of silence before Hotch spoke. "You're certain about this?"

"Yes," Spencer said, quietly but with conviction. He felt like the floor was dropping out from beneath him and he was in a slow free fall, but he remained steady on his feet.

"Let's go. Spencer will navigate from the lead SUV. Park outside of range of the house, we don't want to alert anyone to our presence." Hotch instructed.

They walked quickly to the parking lot, Spencer blinking rapidly as they stepped out into the Vegas sun.

*****

"Clear," Derek said, as they made their way through the side of the house.

Spencer swallowed to clear his throat, the house dim and almost exactly as he remembered it. The peeling layers of old wallpaper next to the doorway were almost a surprise to Spencer: he remembered carefully separating the edge of each layer alongside the doorframe and counting each different pattern he'd found. Floral, textured, stripped; all together there had been eight layers before he'd reached the white of the wall.

"Clear," Spencer replied, his eyes sweeping the hallway and the small bathroom as he took a few steps. The hallway runner was rumpled and Spencer stepped carefully to avoid falling as he led the way.

"Haskins is secured." Rossi's slightly winded voice came through the radio.

Derek walked just behind Spencer as they continued down the hallway. Neither of them relaxed or lowered their weapons despite Rossi's message.

Spencer ignored most of the closed doors they passed, naming them off in his mind as they walked. A linen closet, the study, and the washing room were grouped together, and just beyond that were the bedrooms. Spencer's eye fell on the first alteration he'd seen in the hallway and his chest ached. Knowing that it would be a mistake to look back at Derek, Spencer reached for the metal sliding lock that had been fixed to top side of the doorframe and worked it open. The wood frame near the lock was chipped and the lock itself difficult to move out of the locked position. Spencer didn't think it had been there for very long, though he couldn't decide whether or not that was a good sign.

The door swung inward when Spencer pushed and he quickly made sure the room was clear of threats before hurrying to the low bed in the center of the bedroom. Zach Martin, easily recognizable from the school photograph his parents had brought to the police station, was bound at his wrists to the top of the bed frame.

"No, please don't! I want to go home. I won't tell anyone, I promise. I just want to go home," Zach cried, his head turning at the sound of Spencer and Derek entering the room.

Spencer stared at the mask that had been secured over Zach's eyes and noticed the red marks on Zach's upper arms that probably came from Zach trying to push the mask off.

"We're FBI, Zach. We're here to help you," Derek said.

Zach gave a short whimper and huddled at the top of the bed.

"We're going to get the mask off you, okay?" Derek reached for the buckles at the back of the mask, almost hidden in Zach's floppy brown hair.

"Please," Zach cried, ducking his head.

Spencer took a step away and watched as Derek worked the straps free. "We have Zach Martin, he's alive," Spencer said into the radio, not bothering to specify that paramedics were needed as that would be self-evident. He looked around the room, taking in the orangish brown carpet and the furniture that was almost exactly as he remembered it. The closet door was partially open and Spencer walked over, half of his attention on Derek and Zach and the rest discovering that time hadn't taken the detailed sharpness from his memory of the room at all.

There was a small tied quilt on top of the pile of linen on the shelves in the closet. Spencer picked it up and walked back over to Derek, handing it to him as soon as Derek finished cutting free Zach's wrists. The paramedics were inside the room shortly after that, taking Zach away and leaving them alone at the scene.

Spencer stared blankly at the bed, stripped of everything but the fitted sheet, and listened to the sounds of the team and other responders moving around inside the rest of the house. He was almost tempted to go look at Jimmy, see if he was the same as he remembered, but he didn't really want to know. For all that everything looked the way he remembered it, nothing was the same.

*****

Part Two

Derek looked up at the announcement from the pilot that they were expecting a smooth flight and would be landing at the Quantico airfield in just under four hours. He had been lost in his own thoughts for most of the evening and he was guessing that the rest of the team hadn't fared any better. Spencer had curled up on the bench seat as soon as they'd boarded the jet and had tugged one of the thin fleece blankets over himself. Derek didn't think Spencer was sleeping, but Spencer had turned his face to the back of the seat so it was impossible to tell. No one else was sleeping, that much was certain.

JJ and Emily were sitting together at the table, their heads bent together in a quiet conversation that was washed out by the ambient noise of the jet. Hotch and Rossi across from each other, both quiet, but Derek was certain he'd seen both of them watching Spencer during the first part of the flight. All of them had been keeping an eye on Spencer ever since he'd walked into that interrogation room without telling anyone. Part of Derek was relieved that Spencer hadn't gone off to rescue Zach Martin by himself. Derek was certain he wasn't the only one remembering Spencer standing unarmed in front of a suicidal unsub in the streets of Texas.

He was trying to believe that Spencer coming to them with the information about Gosney and Haskins was a good thing, but he knew better than to lie to himself. Spencer had come to them because he was worried Zach Martin would die if they delayed any longer. Derek had been with Spencer for two years now; they lived in the same apartment and visited their families together, and yet Spencer still kept himself hidden unless he was left without a choice.

The surge of anger Derek was feeling died abruptly as he remembered watching the video of Ruben Gosney's interrogation. Derek had slipped away when they'd returned to the Las Vegas police station and found the video camera still set up. He knew that Hotch had only caught a piece of the conversation, if that, because he'd just looked inside the room to see if Spencer was still there. Derek had stood with the camera and hit the rewind button, waiting until he saw Rossi get up and leave the interrogation room before he let the video play. The camera was only barely catching Spencer at the edge of the room and Spencer was facing away until the very end. Spencer's expression when Gosney told him that they loved him had sent a torrent of horror through Derek and he'd blankly watched the last few minutes of the video that ended when one of the police officers had come to turn off the camera.

Spencer had declined to speak with Jimmy Haskins, even though Hotch had assured him that one of the team would be with him. Derek wasn't sure if that had been the wisest decision, but he wasn't about to say that Spencer needed to confront Haskins. For all he knew, seeing Gosney and going through that house had been as much as Spencer could handle at the moment. They had left the police station faster than usual, Hotch and JJ smoothly handling the locals while Rossi corralled the rest of the team. The entire case had lasted less than twelve hours, which was a remarkable time for recovery from a stranger abduction, but it seemed like those hours had stretched on for much longer.

Derek heard the rustle of someone moving and turned to watch as Hotch resettled himself with his briefcase. Rossi had his notebook out now, with his unmoving pen poised to write something along the lines. Hotch had one of the files resting in front of him and seemed focused on whatever he was looking at, but when he looked up and at Spencer, Derek realized that it was Hotch trying to make a decision. Their eyes met across the plane with Hotch asking a silent question. Derek shook his head and looked away. He hadn't known, he'd had no clue, and he still didn't.

There were other explanations to what Derek had witnessed over the past few hours, other ways that the pieces could fit together to make a coherent picture. Derek knew that his interpretation was biased, especially where it came to Spencer, but he could see that the rest of the team had drawn similar conclusions. What he didn't have was details. The range of possibilities was endless and Derek found himself going back and forth between the best and worse case scenarios that he could imagine.

Best case scenario was that Gosney and Haskins had made inappropriate comments, maybe hung around Spencer too much and made him uncomfortable, and Spencer had never said anything because it hadn't come up. The evidence - the exchange between Spencer and Gosney - didn't support that theory, and Derek wouldn't have believed it anyway without hearing it directly from Spencer. Even if Spencer had told him that, Derek would have his doubts. Spencer wasn't good at direct lies, but Derek had learned long ago not to underestimate his talent for misdirection.

There were more worst case scenarios than Derek cared to explore, pieces from cases he'd worked or consulted on and possibilities that his mind dredged up that would fit what they knew about Gosney and Haskins. Every time Derek looked at Spencer a different picture was drawn in his mind and Derek felt that familiar flood of helplessness and anger all over again.

Derek's chest constricted as he remembered Spencer standing over one of the evidence boxes that the local detective had brought back to the station with them. The box had been filled with photo albums and video cassette tapes, with an old camcorder sitting on top of the pile. Spencer had stood stock still, his hair dropping forward on his face as he looked down. After a minute Derek had guided Spencer away and helped him take down the evidence boards they'd set up only a few hours earlier. Derek didn't have to guess to know that Spencer was blaming himself for however many more victims were captured on film in that box; Derek had seen that own look of self-recrimination in the mirror more times than he could count.

Part of him was stuck wondering if his past was the reason Spencer had never said anything about his own experiences. After Derek had been investigated, and subsequently Carl Buford as well, Derek had talked a little bit with Spencer about what had happened. He wouldn't have, and it wasn't something he'd wanted to do, but watching Spencer hesitate each time he reached to touch him had been too much for Derek. Derek mostly knew better than that; Spencer still wouldn't talk about Tobias Hankel and would barely say anything about his childhood. Spencer's tendency was to try to hide when something was hurting him and that had been instilled long before Derek had met Spencer.

Spencer was going to have to talk with him when they got home. Even if Spencer didn't say anything specific or anything beyond the fact that Gosney and Haskins had hurt him, Derek needed to know that this wasn't all in his head. Spencer shifted, tucking his shoulders in tighter and bringing his legs up as much as the limited space on the seat would allow. More than anything, Derek wanted to go over and sit with Spencer. He wanted to hold him and promise him that whatever happened wasn't his fault. Even though the team knew about his and Spencer's relationship and the jet was their most secluded place, Derek couldn't bring himself to break the last fragile piece of the illusion of well being to which Spencer was desperately clinging.

*****

It was half past one in the morning when they got home. Leaving Vegas in the evening, along with gaining and then losing two hours due to crossing time zones, had made for a long day. Derek had to admit that it was better than staying in Vegas. The last place he wanted to do this was in a hotel surrounded by strangers and thin walls.

"I'm going to shower," Spencer said, dropping his satchel and go-bag on one of the armchairs. It was the first time he'd spoken since they'd bid goodnight to the rest of the team at Quantico.

Derek nodded, glad for the extra minutes to prepare himself. "Do you want coffee? I can put a pot on." It was late to be drinking caffeine when they weren't working a case, but Derek doubted either of them would be ready to try to sleep any time soon.

"Yes. Thank you." Spencer paused in the doorway to the kitchen for a moment, looking lost. Before Derek could say anything, Spencer drifted absently down the hall.

Derek started the coffee and leaned against the kitchen counter. Their windows overlooked a small courtyard in the apartment complex rather than the city and everything Derek could see was dark and still. There was a single dim light in a bedroom window on the fourth story directly across from them but it seemed like the world around them was sleeping. Derek thought about the rest of the team; they should all be safely back to their homes by now. He wondered if any of them were sleeping easily or if they were still stuck reliving the case in their thoughts. It was the cases that didn't make sense, that they couldn't assign meaning to or that they couldn't explain the events, that inevitably kept all of them up.

The coffee maker clicked off and Derek poured two cups, leaving one with just a dash of cream while liberally adding both cream and sugar to the second. He knew enough about Spencer to know that there was no such thing as too much sugar when it came to his coffee, but apparently not well enough that Spencer felt comfortable sharing his past. It wasn't a fair assessment, Spencer had probably never told anyone before and Derek could understand that, but it still made his chest ache. Derek went into the living room, settled the mugs on coasters, and sunk down into the couch.

Spencer appeared before the coffee had cooled enough to drink, his hair still damp and dripping. He was dressed in a pair of plaid pajamas that he favored in the winter and had the knitted blanket from the end of their bed wrapped around his shoulders. He sat down next to Derek, close enough that their knees rested together, and cradled his coffee close to his chest.

"I suppose you want an explanation?" Spencer asked, blowing on the surface of his coffee. "If you don't, Hotch certainly will."

"Let's not worry about Hotch right now," Derek said. He'd only thought briefly about what Hotch was going to wind up putting in his report. Hopefully it would read something about the genius Doctor Reid deducing the second unsub's location from information obtained in the interview, but Derek suspected that would depend on what Spencer was planning on telling their boss.

Spencer took a brief sip of his coffee and set it aside upon discovering that it was still too hot. "I never planned for anyone to find out. Certainly not the team, or you."

Derek nodded, understanding that sentiment all too well.

"I didn't think they would abduct kids. It's rather obvious in retrospect, but it never even crossed my mind until I saw Ruben today." Spencer turned away and reached for his coffee again, his finger running along the rim of the mug. "Jimmy killed Marcus Webb. He couldn't have meant to, but he did."

"A lot of time kids think that they're the only one, that it has something to do with them," Derek offered. He watched Spencer carefully, not missing the way Spencer jolted at the statement and nearly sloshed the hot coffee into his lap. "It's not your fault, Spencer. Whatever happened was beyond your control."

Spencer shook his head ever so slightly and shut his eyes. When he reopened them he turned and looked directly at Derek. "I suppose you missed the way Marcus Webb and Zach Martin were nearly exactly what I looked like when I was that age? And probably every other kid in those photographs too."

"Haskins and Gosney are preferential offenders and you happened to fit their age range and physical attribute criteria," Derek countered. "Spencer, you were a vulnerable kid. You didn't have anyone to tell and they knew that made you a safe target."

Spencer laughed, his entire body convulsing, and Derek grabbed Spencer's coffee before it slipped and burned them both. "They took care of me. They looked out for me at school and helped stop the worst of the bullying."

"They offered you protection as a way of making you believe that you owed them," Derek said. It was a common technique used in the grooming of children, particularly those who were living in unstable environments. The predator offered the child or adolescent a sense of safety and normalcy and gained their trust in return.

Spencer shook his head. "It wasn't like that. Once, when the power company had turned off our service, Jimmy pretended to be my uncle and drove into the city with me so that we could pay the bill. They wouldn't let me do it over phone; they kept asking to speak with my mom and she was in the midst of a particularly bad episode and not having lights was making it worse. Ruben took me grocery shopping in the middle of the night after my mom thought that our food had been poisoned and thrown everything out. For those two years before we graduated high school, they were my family."

Derek hid a wince as Spencer reached for his coffee again and drank from it. He waited until Spencer had composed himself a little even though he was now hunched forward and staring into his cup. "They gained your trust. It's natural for you to feel betrayed by them. Two years is a long time, especially at that age."

"You don't understand," Spencer said.

Derek did flinch at that. "I think out of anyone on the team I would be the one who could really understand."

Spencer set down his cup and looked directly at Derek. "The reasons you think you understand are exactly the same reasons why you can't understand."

"Spencer. Stop trying to talk circles around me and just talk to me. Whatever you tell me, I'll listen." Derek sat back on the couch and let Spencer see that he was completely open and honest. Derek knew his sorrow and anger and fear were just as easy to read.

"It was consensual," Spencer said, his voice barely audible.

Derek stared. "What?" His question came out more sharply than he intended.

Spencer looked down at the couch. His body was visibly tense and his breathing shallow. "My relationship with Jimmy and Ruben was consensual. I was an active participant. They didn't force me to do anything. They didn't bribe or coerce me. They didn't hurt me."

"Just because you didn't tell them no doesn't mean it was consensual," Derek said, suddenly feeling like he could breathe again. This was a very different problem than he'd envisioned, but at least it answered the question of why Spencer had never told him.

"I didn't want to tell them no. Jimmy and Ruben were very gentle with me. They let me explore and indulged in my curiosity." Spencer had relaxed ever so slightly when Derek hadn't lashed out in anger.

"You were still a child," Derek said firmly.

Spencer frowned. "I was eleven and twelve when I was with Jimmy and Ruben. Intellectually I had surpassed almost everyone I'd ever met."

Derek smiled and reached up to rub his forehead. "Spencer, you're always going to be more intelligent than almost anyone we meet. That doesn't mean emotionally and socially, or even physically, that you were ready to be in a sexual relationship. How old were they?"

"In my last year of high school Ruben was seventeen and Jimmy was eighteen. It wasn't until I went to the university that I realized exactly how unusual our relationship was, even discounting the age difference. Derek, they were good to me. They were the only thing at that time in my life that was good." Spencer leaned back on the couch and tucked his legs up near his chest.

Derek recognized the position as one Spencer took when he was feeling vulnerable and attempting to protect and soothe himself, though it had the additional effect of creating a barrier between them. He placed his hand on Spencer's knee, hoping to remind Spencer that they were still on the same side.

"Now all I can think about is those kids who were a replacement for me and how I must have set Jimmy and Ruben's type. Seeing Zach Martin in the bedroom like that, it was almost like a mockery of what we used to do there." Spencer rested his head against the back of the couch but made no effort to pull away from Derek's touch.

Biting back his initial response that the first victim was the most important in determining victimology - he knew that Spencer wouldn't have appreciated the term victim regardless of the circumstances - Derek reached over Spencer's knees and resettled the slipping blanket back over Spencer's shoulder. "What did you do there?"

Spencer looked at Derek, suspicion written across his features.

"I'm not judging you, I'd just like to know." Derek leaned back again to give Spencer a little more space.

Spencer sighed. "You're asking if we engaged in penetrative sexual intercourse."

"I'm asking for whatever you feel comfortable telling me," Derek countered.

"Yes, we had sex, but it wasn't about sex. They let me explore them just as much as they explored me. Sometimes, I'd just stay the whole night with them and pretend that we didn't have to go to school the next day or back home." Spencer leaned his legs to the side so that he and Derek could see each other again. "Ruben would tie my wrists to the bed frame and cover my eyes, and then he and Jimmy would spend what seemed like hours just touching me. It was a game we'd play; they'd run different things along my skin and I would guess what they were."

Derek's stomach clenched. He'd heard too many kids tell them how their abusers would explain sexual touch as a game. "They told you not to tell anyone?" he guessed.

"They didn't have to. None of us would have said anything, matters of legality aside. Neither of them were open about their sexual orientation, and I was still uncertain about my own as I'd only had experiences with men at that time." Spencer shook his head. "Derek, I know that your history makes this hard for you to understand, but my relationship with them was not a traumatic experience for me. Discovering that they've been hurting children and I could have done something about it is distressing, but at the time it wasn't something that was hurt me."

Derek could tell that Spencer believed what he was saying. He weighed the idea in his mind, trying to picture Spencer as young as Zach Martin or Marcus Webb being involved with eighteen year olds who hadn't yet abducted or killed anyone. He imagined Spencer, with his shaggy hair and glasses and the way that he looked when he was making connections between information or the pitch of his voice when he excitedly rambled about something that was fascinating to him, only smaller and hesitant of everyone the way he'd been when he'd first joined the team.

Derek couldn't make that final leap; he couldn't see a sexual relationship between a prepubescent child and men who were physically and legally adults as anything but being abusive and coerced. His mind returned to the explanations he'd already been formulating: Spencer's young mind had found a way to protect him from yet another painful betrayal and his misplaced shame and guilt in adulthood had required the psychological defense to remain in place.

Spencer, whose ability to read people was occasionally hit or miss, was clearly able to see Derek's basic conclusion. "I understand why you feel that way, which is why I never told you. This changes things, doesn't it? Changes your understanding of me?"

"Yes, but it doesn't change how I feel about you. It doesn't change what we have," Derek said honestly. He leaned forward and placed his hand on Spencer's. "I wish you'd been able to tell me sooner, but I get why you didn't."

Spencer sighed. "What am I supposed to tell Hotch tomorrow?"

"As much as you feel comfortable with," Derek said. If Hotch heard the whole story, including Spencer's interpretation, Derek guessed that he would come to the same conclusions that Derek had. It was going to be bad enough walking into the bullpen tomorrow morning. The rest of the team would look to him and even though they didn't know the details they would know that Spencer had been a victim of Gosney and Haskins.

"This should never have happened," Spencer said quietly. He twisted his hand around so that he was holding on to Derek's.

"No, it shouldn't have," Derek agreed, knowing that his meaning was slightly different than Spencer's. It was late, his coffee was cold and untouched, and Derek was heavy-hearted and exhausted.

"I don't think I can go to sleep right now." Spencer dropped his feet back down on the floor, his free hand coming up to rest at the crook of his opposite arm. "I don't want to think right now."

Derek recognized the signs of Spencer's distress, better than he would have a year ago, and decided to let the subject matter drop for the time being. He needed some time to figure out how to approach him without causing further trauma; Hotch might have some ideas, depending on how much Spencer decided to disclose. "Come here," Derek said, tugging Spencer's hand so that Spencer would sit up.

Spencer did, his body just as rigid and uncertain as it had been when they had first started dating and Derek would hug him or sit close to him. "You still want to sit with me like this?"

"That hasn't changed. Nothing like that has changed. You're still Spencer and I'm still Derek, and this is what we do." Derek rearranged them on the couch, wrapping his arms around Spencer and letting Spencer cover both of them with the knitted blanket. "I love you, that hasn't changed either."

Spencer sighed, resting his forehead on Derek's shoulder. "I love you too."

Derek settled in, knowing that they would probably be on the couch until it was time for them to get up and go to work.

"This is all my fault," Spencer whispered.

"It's not," Derek said. He knew they had a long way to go before Spencer believed him, but he knew firsthand how important that reassurance was. "None of this is your fault."

Spencer didn't respond and Derek held him closer.


End file.
